


A Nameless Lane in Tidepool

by RiverDelta



Category: Red vs. Blue, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Surreal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverDelta/pseuds/RiverDelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a island of form in the sea of infinity, there is a city, known as Tidepool. Tidepool's inhabitants are entirely fiction, but they run businesses, sell food, man the boardwalk, and do other such things that nonexistent beings shouldn't be able to do. Tidepool never requires food except for what the inhabitants happen to have (and they always happen to have enough), never requires electricity (again, there is always enough), and never sleep.</p><p>On Nameless Lane, part of Tidepool's suburb, Dead Air, there are two houses. Exactly two houses. Both are identical. They happen to house a Gem from Beach City and a man from the planet Chorus.</p><p>One was once a knight. One was once a soldier.</p><p>Each will be able to look into the pasts of the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pearl Asleep

At the edge of infinity, there is an island of being known as Tidepool. A bustling city full of people who don't exist but who run the town's businesses, set up ordinances in city government, and generally act as though they exist. It must be stressed that they do not. Tidepool is a coastal town, though the Open Ocean that it actually borders is in fact merely a watery chunk of the huge island of land that the city of Tidepool sits on. There are many suburbs of Tidepool, each empty. The houses are immaculate but barren. Only the city has any life, and when looked at, the shadowy, cloaked figures that do not exist look away.

One of these many suburbs is the humble suburban town of Dead Air. Dead Air is very notable. Under the endlessly milk-white sky that Tidepoolians see every day, there is only one suburb which has anybody who does exist. Actually, having anyone who exists at all is very strange indeed. It would be a novelty, but only people who exist can appreciate novelties, so Tidepool does not see much of interest in Dead Air. On one of the winding streets of Dead Air, Nameless Lane, there are two beautiful suburban houses.

They really do look like the sort of thing one might see in a Rockwell painting. Standing in front of House #003, which of course is opposite to House #619-B, because people who don't exist are very bad at managing to keep numbering systems straight, and looking at the red brick exteriors of both houses in the perfectly seventy-degree heat (It is always seventy degrees) would seem to show that as far as the eye can see, winding roads without cars with endless houses that may as well be copies lining them make up the entire world of Dead Air.

Allow us to begin in House #003, one of the only two houses in all of the Tidepool Municipal Area that actually has a existent resident.

* * *

"Steven!" I gasped as I woke up from bed. This was suspect for a number of reasons. For one thing, I never sleep. I greatly dislike the idea of sleeping. For another thing, I wouldn't go to sleep in a fluffy bed with lavender flower-print comforters, as honestly I have never seen a bed like that in my life. I slid out of bed as neatly as I could and looked around the room. There were photographs of shadowy figures, framed as if they were members of some family, but as I looked at these little photographs I saw them shift.

The shadowy blobs gave way to different people. Some were chubby, short purple women. Others were tall, thin blue women. One was a small green woman with diamond-shaped hair. So it went on, until every surviving Gem, from Amethyst to Bismuth and Garnet, I saw, posed in different ways. The blue women, Lapis Lazuli, all glared at me through the photographs, arms outstretched as if trying to reach out and grab the water behind me. When I looked back, I saw no source of water. The purple women, Amethyst, sat on the floor, only barely looking at the photographs. So it went on.

I looked around in the bedroom, which was an austere room, the flowery wallpaper being the only sign of any kind of real life (the rest of the shelves were empty besides the picture frames, the floor bare wood, the window curtains a simple white... All except for a large, austere mirror. I looked into it, and found that I looked as I remembered myself looking. I was quite tall, with a pointed nose that I am told reminds people of a bird's beak. I was extraordinarily thin, of course, and, well, the one strange thing was that while my clothing, that of a well-tailored suit with bow tie was on, as I expected (I do not remember going to bed in such clothing), my gem vanished, to be replaced by a long white scar across my forehead.

A scar. Yes. A scar. As I was a human. For those unaware, a Gem is an alien species notable for having holographically-projected hard-light bodies that come from our actual selves, the gems embedded into our bodies. Mine is in my forehead. Well, was. Now I'm going to have to deal with those horrible human habits that I was so thankful to be able to ignore, like eating, and relieving myself... Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear... I begun to hyperventilate, watching my reflection breathe in and out very, very quickly.

I sighed and removed my bow-tie and jacket, sliding back underneath the covers of the bed. Hopefully I had somehow fallen asleep, and this was all a bad dream that I could avoid by just sleeping. That was how things worked, right? I certainly hoped so. That was such a bad idea. You see, I fell asleep in the unfinished bedroom. I woke up, or if I can call it waking up, I saw someone. I saw a person, or robonoid, or something, in a maze of these shiny silver columns. 

_Felix, come in._

I heard his voice, and recognized his gender based on that. Well, I assumed as such. The odds of him not...Never mind. The man in full armor, green and black, turned invisible for a brief second as he walked through the maze, aiming his human "gun" at anything he saw. Maybe he was scared? I could sense fear in soldiers by this point. This man looked like a Jasper.

_Felix, I've made it through the gateway. Equipment is malfunctioning....._

Then I saw nothing but black for a second, and when my vision reasserted itself, I saw the same man in white and green armor, with a sideways X-mark across his helmet, standing by a man with a helmet that looked like a cross between a gas mask and a bulldog's head. 

_What do we have here, men?_

So the man with the bulldog helmet was the commander. Him, the man with the X-mark on his helmet, and about ten other soldiers looked down at a horrific monster with tentacles for a mouth, clad in some kind of armor. It made pleading noises.

_I think it understands what we're saying..._

One of the subordinates said this, to the commander, who responded as follows, his gun pointed at the monster, which did not attack.

_Really? Then why don't you tell us what you're doing here?_

I heard the monster make more soft noises with its mouth, only for a soldier to yell a phrase I'd never heard before, pointing his gun.

_Speak English, motherfucker!_

My perspective, now omniscient, saw the monster turn to face the soldier who insulted it, looking up at the man on the elevated terrain.

_Wait...Why's it looking at me?_

He gasped a bit, clearly afraid of the monster now. One of the soldiers standing by the commander, with a unique helmet (they all wore full-body armor, as you might have guessed) said, somewhat flippantly:

_**Maybe you're just its type. I say we blow its brains out.** _

Then the man with the X-shaped mark, the original human, shook his head.

_No. That's your answer to everything._

I watched them debate about what to do with the monster, wondering who these people were, what my mind must have done to create them... The commander spoke.

_You quit eyeballing my men and give me some answers. Hey! Are you alone?_

The monster kept trying to speak in whatever language the thing spoke, and the X-marked man turned to the commander, and the two argued.

_-Sir, I think it's trying to surrender._

_-I did not ask you for your opinion!_

Then two of the other soldiers started to yell as the monster's pleas grew more and more desperate.

_-Watch it!_

_-He's getting hostile!_

The unmarked lieutenant, the one with the unique helmet, started to whisper, and I heard it as though he was whispering in my ear, though I felt my body hover twenty feet above them all.

**_-Sir, this thing's wasting our time and we're in no position to start taking hostiles._ **

_-Fine. You two (He pointed to the marked man and the man with the unique helmet) move into one of these buildings and take it out. Quietly._

The marked man protested, trying to make his voice heard, only to be shut down by the commander. I had no idea what any of this meant.

_-It's scared._

_-If it's smart, it should be._

_-Maybe we can restrain it..._

_-Son, you listen here! You are a soldier! In this war, you are nothing but a suit of armor, and a gun, so when I give you this order, you damn well follow it!_

Then I realized why I was dreaming this dream.


	2. Locus Awakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song used is Do it for Her, as seen here: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5i-sbh7UCw)
> 
> I decided to take a little bit more liberty with this than I did with Locus of Control in Chapter One, but that is only because Locus of Control is a bit longer, and because it's not a song, unlike Do it for Her.

I am Samuel Ortez. Commonly known as Locus. There are no such thing as ghosts. AI in holographic form, perhaps, but not ghosts. So, it is to my confusion that I note that I appear to be hovering as a ghost over an ancient arena, half in the process of crumbling. I am in my full armor, green and black. The helmet covers my eyes, but projects inside the domed, skull-like thing a live feed of what I see. My AR vision augmentations haven't come online. Given that I am a floating ghost, I assume that this, too, is because I am dreaming.

Below me, I see three figures. A child and two women with swords, one in loose-fitting combat garments. The second woman, the one dressed for some ancient battle, is in fact upon closer inspection a child as well, though she seems slightly older. Comms are online. I do not know how, or why, but by some dream-logic I begin to hear a song play. More accurately, I hear the two with swords sing through my helmet's speakers.

_Keep your stance wide, keep your body lowered._

So this is some sort of instructional song about sword fighting? Odd.

_As you're moving forward, balance is the key._

The two start to move back and forth as if fencing, the child making experimental strikes, only to be easily and almost mindlessly countered by the teacher.

_Right foot, left foot; Now go even faster, and as you're moving backwards keep your eyes on me._

The song seems to be working, as the student enters a natural fighting stance. As far as dreams go, I prefer the irrelevant to the traumatic. So this is a step up. Then the pupil begins to sing.

**_-Keep my stance wide,_ **

_-Good._

**_-Keep my body lowered._ **

_-Right!_

**_-As I'm moving forward..._ **

_-Concentrate! Don't you want him to live?_

Three people in an open space. Two armed, though weapons are primitive. Only one properly trained. Unarmed, untrained child seems to be strategically significant, largely undefended. If I were corporeal, this would be simple. No. I am not a weapon anymore. Remember that, Locus. 

. _..Everything you have, everything you are you've got to give, on the battlefield, when everything is chaos, and you've got nothing but the way you feel, your strategy and a sword..._

Suddenly the teacher begun to remind me of three people. My old commander, Felix, and myself. Everything you are you've got to give. If only I had the ability to hover down and tell these figments how wrong that idea is. Well, if I could, would I be able to bring myself to care?

_You just think about the life you'll have, together after the war, and then you do it for her, that's how you know you can win, you do it for her, that is to say, you'll do it for him._

"Comms. Are comms working?" Nothing. Radio static. This is a dream, Locus. None of these people are real. They continued to sing their song, the pupil and teacher exchanging words, only the words of the teacher meaning anything to me.

_...What they don't know, is your real advantage. If you live for someone, you're prepared to die._

_- **With my short existence...**_

_**-** Good!_

_- **I can make a difference.**_

_**-** Yes, excellent!_

_- **I can be there for him, I can be his knight.**_

Knight. An archaic word for "soldier". I woke up with that, in a bed. I haven't slept in a bed in four years. I have slept in various bunks, on spaceships and in bases in the Federal Army of Chorus' holdings. I looked around the room, which was so nondescript in nearly every fashion that it had to have been deliberate, and stood up. I was, of course, able to sleep in my armor. I'd done so for four years. If anything, I probably would find it hard to sleep without my armor on. I have only recently rediscovered the fact that my armor is not who I am.

* * *

I put my bow-tie and jacket back on and left the house, taking in the dry air and looking for cars. Empty driveways. Garages with nothing inside of them. As far as the eye could see. My name is Pearl, and I am lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments are highly appreciated, so thank you for any of them!


End file.
